kusanagi's story
by fft-teta-hyral
Summary: the story of a young boy named kusanagi who has a hard life when fate finally gives him a break when joining up with ramza beoulve. chapt.2complete!!please review!
1. Default Chapter

title:kusanagi's story author:fft_teta_hyral e-mail: fft_teta_hyral@yabal.com warnings:none. notes:this chapter is set towards the end of the fifty year war and basically tells of the background to the main character, kusanagi mistubura. disclaimer: i do not claim to own fft, any of its characters,places,storylines ect. this is written purely for fun. although the characters kusanagi,amelia,and ukyo are my own:P ============================================================================================================================================== my name, kusanagi mitsubura...today is my 21st birthday.. i was borne to a young serving girl of 25 short years of life working for "the red chocobo inn" in the city of goland. my mother, amelia a young blonde beautiful,cheerfull person with a lively spirit and wonderfull singing voice, had to work most of my childhood to support us...my father ukyo having died at age 34 near the end of the fifty year war having his chocobo blown out from under him and throwing him into the path of an angry enemy behemoth...this occurred shortly after i was borne...sometimes during my childhood my mother would tell me stories of my fathers bravery and how he had once been part of a very noble and well respected family before he met and married my mother a common girl raised in the outskirts of zarghidas trade city.... ==============================================================================================================================================and although life was hard it wasnt so bad. we had a roof over heads and food on the table every night...and we still had each other...but, fate as i have learned can be a cruel mistress as i lost my mother to a petty gang of thieves out for gil just so they could get drunk for the night on her way home from work the night before my 6th birthday. the six of them dressed in blue and gold colored clothing most of it old and torn or coated with dirt and dried blood robbed,beat and raped her...they left her for dead in a dark alley not a block away from our home. somehow...i'll never know for sure how she managed to make it,leaving a small trail of bright red blood as she stubled with unsteady steps through the dark night towards home.but she somehow made it to the side entrance to the shabby boarding house we called "home". ==============================================================================================================================================colapsing at the bottom of the stairs with a dull thud and a low groan of pain slightly muffled by the falling snow, alarmed the cook marcus,hearing a noise just outside his kitchen door suddenly stopped his cheerfull humming and listened a moment hearing the thump outside and deciding to take a look while his fresh bread baked for the evening meal cooled on the table, found her covered in small bruises and cuts as well as another wide deep looking gash in her side turning the white snow crimson as she breathed her last... her parting words as her spirit fled this world were delivered to me the next morning were words of love and wishes for me to become a great man someday, like the father i never got the chance to know...=======================================================================================================================================within two weeks of her death i found myself, a solemn grieving child of 6 being carried off to an already overflowing orphanage to hopefully be given a new home by some loving couple but not many people are willing to take in anothe persons stray.i edned up staying in that same orphanage,st.anthony's for three years doing meanial chores to earn my keep. to say life was hard there would be an understatement...the chores were not the only tough part about this life.my dark brown hair cropped short just below my ears and strange violet colored eyes and young face with promise of one day being a handsome young man, made me the target of many beatings from older and larger stronger boys who had not yet been adopted and thought no one would want a bruise riddled child would increase their chances of being adopted....TBC 


	2. the march to war

kusanagi's story.chapt.2  
  
e-mail:fft_teta_hyral@yabal.com  
  
============================================================================ ======the next three years of my life spent in st.anthony's would be pure hell...chores by morning, beatngs by noon, and rejected by yet another cpiple because of my bruises and cuts...there was only one good thing that came from those beatings...it seemed i had a natural talent for self defence...i found myself.. as the beatings became more harsher, and the blows more heavy, i learned to block quite accurately.a blow to the head easily deflected by an upheld arm,a clumsily thrown punch to the stomach easily avoided by rolling to the side...though i was getting good at blocking and taking more damage without pasing out i had not found the courage to try punch back...maybe it was my lack of self confidence or fear of punishment from the head master of the orphanage.. beating may be bad but a week of mucking out chocobo stalls and laundry dutyis enough to make anyone wish they had never thrown a single punch....but other then that things werent too bad.. the orphanage would try to provide some of the children with a basic bit of schooling...learning to read and write..but not much more...this i took advantage of and learned everything i was able within these very limited sources of education.once i reached age eight the orphanage had started a program to train children 7 years of age or older to be soldiers...though the only jobs they would train you for were the most basic of classes....the lowly ranks of squires and chemists...once completion of our training was acomplished we would be sent to various cities to act as last minute reinforcements....this would be my first time leaving goland...=================================================================== ============= i, with a group of twenty other children were sent to fort zeakden...only half made it there...we were forced to walk the entire trip from goland to zeakden...st.anothys was too cheap to provide chocobos for us...not even three or four to pull cart with us in it...it was harsh traveling...with only the clothses on our backs, what few accesories we had and managed to keep upon entering st.anthonys, where thievery among friends was quite common... i, had managed to hide an old dark blue feather mantle trimmed with gold fur around the edges and gold buttons dulled by time and being hidden under my thin matress that had once belonged to my father...it was the only item i had left of my home and my parents...i cherished it for that and for what little warmth and protection it could provide from the rain. we walked through those cold muddy streets huddled together friend and enemy alike...alll afraid of being attacked or worse as we trudged on to our uncertain fate at fort zeakden...within days of reaching dorter many of us had the sniffles or bad coughs that didnt seem to want to go away...we were just passing a deserted shed in the dorter slums when the first of us finally gave in to lack of food shelter and good health...many tears were shed for the girl with dark blonde hair and once cheerfull grey eyes that were now expressionless and blank as most corpses eyes were...i was the unlucky person chosen to take care of her body...i believe her name was erica...i found a bent and dented old shovel coated with rust inside the rickety old shed and tried my best to dig her a grave...this was my first taate of death and i did not like it one bit...it was about three am before i finally managed to put her soul to rest...covered head to foot with mud and my dark hair plastered to my now pale face as i mumbled a barely remebered prayer for the girl...as i made my bd for the night in what litle space remained of the floor of the old shack with the other surviving orphans i made a decision..by sunup i would be gone..on my own...i wanted no part of fort zeakden where i knew more death and destruction awaited.. i would head south...and pray for the souls of my comrades as they bravely mmarched onwards..TBC 


	3. first battle

i had first thought traveling alone would be a good idea..i was soon to learn the error of my ways making slow progress to the edge of town the rain still poured in heavy sheets soaking me to the bone even through my rough linen shirt and fathers old feather mantle and battle boots with more then one hole in the soles.i trudged on determined not to let a little bad weather stop me from being free of my fate and the possible death awaiting me at fort zeakden. i was beginning to miss the quiet chattering of the other children and soft footsteps that let me know i was not alone. i jumped at every shadow and the slightest sound waiting to be attacked by theives or worse but it seems even they were not willing to venture out into such weather. by the time i crossed the barrier of old buildings leading into the sweegy woods i was beginning to feel dizzy and lightheaded from hunger and a slight fever. i stopped at noon only long enough to eat some of the stale bread that was supposed to have been part of my rations as a soldier. as luck would have it my little break to eat had drawna hungry red panther to my little camp thinking to take my dinner or have me for dinner. i liked neither prospected and unsheathed my cheaply made broadsword given to all squires from the orphanage and prepared for my first battle. the panther growled low as it looked at me and my little meal on the ground slowly edgeing forwards. as wary of me as i of it. not wanting to kill the beast or be killed myself i did the first that popped into my mind. i searched the ground and found a good sized stone and threw it at the creatures head but missed only lightly smacking its left shoulder and doing little damage. i begin to sweat as the cat growled its outrage at being hit and charged towards me inent on sinking its claws into my chest. i barely managed to dodge and recieved a nice set of claw marks under the right side of my ribcage sendng fire shooting from the wound blinding me with anger as i clumsily swung my broadsword at the cat once again hoping for a head shot or better but badly missingas the cat dodged and slammed its head into my stomach knocking the wind out of me and driving the tip of my boradsword into its shoulder as i fell it howled its rage sweeping poison filled claws across my chest leaving the front of my linen shirt in shreds with trail of bright red blood streaming from the slashes. the cat could have finished me then injured as i was and already weakend by my fever i was suprised when it simply limped over to what was left of the stale bread and snatched it up before limping off while i lay on the ground struggling to sit up and clear my blurred vision that was beginning to turn black at the edges as pain and poison took its toll on my body. i saw the tops of the trees and the slowly stopping rain before my vision went black. TBC. 


End file.
